


Quagmire

by 30xf



Series: 201 Days Of X Files [70]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:28:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7213351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30xf/pseuds/30xf





	Quagmire

1

I'm so distracted by the leggy blonde jogging on the other side of the street, that I don't notice the tiny red head approaching me from the side. Or it's owner, who stops at the passenger door, gives one tap on the window and points to the trunk. I hit the button to pop the trunk and try to pick up the progress of the blonde jogger, but she's gone. I sigh and wait for Scully to get into the car. But when she opens the door, the tiny red head I hadn't noticed springs into the car and onto my lap. Scully's dog somehow effectively pins me to the seat and licks my face all over, despite my protesting. 

To my relief, when Scully sits and closes the door, she simply says the dog's name once, and he is off my lap and onto hers. The little rat of a dog sits there, staring at me and panting. I look from it to Scully, the irritation clear on my face.

"Good morning," she tells me, as irritatingly cheerfully as I probably sounded when I called and woke her up an hour ago. 

"I guess," I grumble, handing her the paper cup of coffee I got for her. Apparently curious as to what I got for it, Scully's dog pounces on my lap again, one of his feet landing right in my crotch.

Scully correctly interprets my grunt of pain and calls the dog off again. "Sorry," she sighs, setting her coffee beside mine in the cup holders between us. "We're a package deal today."

"Great," I frown, too annoyed to even ask why.

"Get in the back," Scully instructs, and the dog obliges happily. He arranges himself in the middle of the back seat and looks from Scully, to me, and back to Scully.

"Is he gonna stay back there?"

"Mmm-hmm. He's a good boy," she assures me, reaching back to scratch the dog's head.

I turn the car on and am about to drive away, when a bout of ear-piercing barking erupts from the back seat. "Jesus," I sigh, jumping a little.

With almost no reaction at all, Scully turns her head, says the dog's name sternly, just once, and all is quiet again. "There was a cat in the bushes over there," she explains, pointing towards the door of her building.

"How the hell did he see it? That thing's like a foot tall," I marvel, turning to look at the dog, who completely ignores me.

Scully rolls her eyes at me, "Just because he's short, doesn't mean he doesn't see things. Besides, he knows the building, and that cat is his arch nemesis."

I look in the rear view mirror at Queequeg, who is alternately looking at the bushes, and the back of Scully's head. He is pretty much vibrating with excitement at the prospect of Scully possibly unleashing him on the cat. "He's freaking me out a little, Scully."

She looks at him, and then at me and frowns. "You need to get out more." She turns back to Queequeg and says simply, "Car ride?" And the cat is forgotten. He turns his attention back to me and starts panting. As much as I hate this dog, I have to give Scully credit for training him remarkably well. And for not letting him eat her yet. After a shake of my head and a sigh, we are on our way.

 

2

When there is a knock at my door not long after Scully has left, I don't think much of it. I know it's her, back again, and I assume it's to help me look through more pictures. But the look on her face when I open the door tells me something is wrong. I step aside, and she takes a hesitant step into the room.

"I, uh..." she starts, and drops her eyes. It's then that I notice Queequeg's leash in her hand. And that there's not a dog attached to it.

I look out into the night as I close the door, and then point to the leash. "What happened?" I ask, guiding her to sit down.

She looks me in the eye then, and I can see tears welling up. "I don't know," she starts, but gets choked up.

"You want me to go look for him?" I ask, unsure of exactly what's going on.

Scully shakes her head then, and holds up the collar still hooked onto the leash. For the first time, I can see that it hasn't simply slipped off the dogs neck, but appears instead to have been torn off. "He was barking at something in the woods, and when I tried to see what it was, he took off and pulled the leash out of my hand," she explains. She swallows a lump in her throat and continues, "I ran after him and tried to catch him, but he was barking the whole time. The leash caught on a piece of wood and when I grabbed it, I could feel him pulling on it. He was still barking, and then all of a sudden he wasn't."

Her gaze has drifted off to some point on the floor behind me. I crouch in front of her, trying to gauge exactly what she saw, if anything at all. Wondering if we're dealing with her missing dog, or if I'm going to have to go retrieve the body she was too distraught to carry back. "What do you mean? What happened?"

She shrugs, "The leash retracted, and he wasn't there. I heard rustling, and I went to find him...I followed his footprints in the mud. And they just stopped." She wipes at an errant tear. "He was just gone."

I'm not sure exactly what to say. My first thought is of Big Blue, and that Scully's dog would be just about snack size for it. Thankfully, my brain registers that this would be insensitive of me. It's been so long since I've had a pet I couldn't simply flush down the toilet when it died, that I forgot what strong attachments people can develop with animals. Her eyes are cast down to the floor. I can't tell if she's consciously trying not to cry, or if she's in shock. "You want to just sit here for a while?"

She doesn't respond, and I take it as a yes. I lay a hand on her shoulder for a moment, and she doesn't seem to register it. With nothing else to say, I retreat to the table and return to the stack of pictures that may or may not show evidence of a creature that may or may not have just made a meal out of Scully's little rat of a dog.

 

3

Scully is quiet on the drive home, but not visibly upset. I know she misses her dog, but I also know she'll be okay. She has his tag in her coat pocket, and she periodically puts her hand in there to fidget with it. It only occurs to me when we pull up in front of her building that there are still things of his for her to deal with. His food bowl in the kitchen. His toys littered around her apartment. His fur all over everything. His empty spot on her bed. 

"You want me to come up so we can work on our report?" I offer before she gets out of the car.

She pauses for a moment, seeming to honestly consider her options. "You might as well," she sighs. "The sooner we get it done, the better." And she's out of the car. She retrieves her bag from the back seat and is up to her door so quickly I have to jog to catch it before it locks behind her.

"You want to order some food?" I ask as she opens her apartment door.

"I'm not really hungry," she tells me as she tosses her bag on the first chair she passes. "But go ahead and order something if you want. Or have a look and see what's in the fridge."

She disappears into the bathroom, and it occurs to me that normally she would have taken her bag to her room and started to unpack it right away. But I'm fairly sure Queequeg's leash and torn collar are still in there. And whatever else she brought for him. On my way to the fridge, I notice the food dish on the floor and I wonder if I should move it. Before I can decide, Scully appears again, passing me with a whoosh of air, and snags the dish off the floor. She deposits it into the sink before putting the kettle on to boil.

"Find anything to eat?" she asks, retrieving mugs from the cupboard. She's changed into jeans and a t-shirt, with a light grey cardigan over top. And she already has her glasses on, ready to work.

"Nah, I'm not really that hungry yet," I lie, hanging my coat off the kitchen chair.

She shrugs, and continues making us tea. As I get out everything we need to work, I notice her fluttering around the kitchen, and realize she's gathering up leftover dog food. A few unopened cans from the cupboard, a half-empty bag of kibble, bags of treats, and an unused bag of kibble disproportionately big compared to the dog it was purchased for. She puts it all together at the end of the counter, only looking up when it's all been straightened and rearranged several times. She notices me watching her and explains, "They can use it at the shelter. I'll take it there tomorrow."

I nod as she sits at the table with our cups of tea, and we begin working in silence. I'm just about to ask her about some of the pictures we took for evidence when her ringing phone makes us both jump. She grabs it off it's base and answers as she sits back down. "Hello?...Hey, mom. How was your trip?"

Several minutes of small talk pass that I mostly ignore, until something her mother says causes a small shift in Scully's tone. It's a change only someone who knows her well would notice. Like myself. And her mother. She stops talking for a moment and leaves the room, phone still to her ear. When she returns a little while later, it is without the phone, but with slightly puffy, watery eyes. 

"Everything okay?" I ask, looking up at her as I take a sip of tea.

"Mmm-hmm," she answers before clearing her throat. She looks around at the papers in front of her, trying to remember what she was doing. She puts her glasses back on, only to take them off a minute later.

"You sure?" I prod. 

Scully sighs and runs a hand over her face. "I'm fine," she assures me, holding both hands up in surrender. She sounds sure of herself, but her bloodshot eyes contradict her voice. "I am fine. It's just..." She shakes her head, the corner of her mouth turning up in spite of herself. "I was completely fine until my mom said I sounded funny and asked if I was okay. Then I lost it," she confesses.

I nod and smile. "Moms can have that effect on you sometimes."

"I'm an adult. And I can handle anything in life just fine, until my mom asks me if I'm okay. Then I turn into a big baby," she muses, carefully rubbing at her eyes to avoid ruining her makeup.

"It's okay to be a big baby once in a while," I allow.

"I am fine though, I promise. I'm sad, but I'm fine." She puts her glasses back on and picks up some of the papers in front of her, reorganizing them until they make sense. "I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight without that stupid dog, but I'm fine." She adds this last part more quietly, but her tone remains strong. 

I take a long moment to consider her level of sadness. The biggest hint I have is her vocabulary. She's said the word 'fine' about sixty-three times in under a minute. She'd generally be a little more verbose. I try to decide if the situation warrants me getting up to give her a hug, or just making an offhanded joke to lighten her mood. The intimacy level in our friendship has always erred on the more restrained side, so I go with my instincts. "If it makes you feel any better, you can take me out for a walk and scratch my belly, and I'll curl up and sleep at the foot of your bed."

She stops reading and looks up at me, the look of concentration from her work still on her face. She frowns at me, closes her eyes, and it is an agonizing minute before her smile breaks out. She chuckles, "I appreciate the offer, but that won't be necessary."

I smile, proud of myself. "Well, the offer's there if you change your mind."

"I will feed you though, I guess. Pizza okay?"

I give her a thumbs up as she heads for the phone. "Do I have to do any special tricks for it?"

"I'll let you know when it gets here," she tells me, patting my head as she begins to order.


End file.
